The ER -- The Track Clinic at the University of Milton North

[SupermassiveLBD]

While everyone else is getting their thinking caps on

How lovely - the visuals of Claude and the sounds of Yo Yo Ma and not a haggis in sight.

This one is certified charcuterie -free too.

::falls off sofa at "charcuterie free"::

There was a hyphen in between the two words, Maud, which does change the meaning. As in Eats, shoots and leaves.

Did you see who made that last vid Massive?

Was fedoralady of Lovelace fanfic fame!

I did indeed, Spiro. I was nobly trying to resist posting the Gizzy one. She is rather partial to him and sometimes it shows

Yes, Massive, it was at the sense of charcuterie-free that I was laughing. As an amusing continuation of the idea of haggis. Ahem. Apologies for my omission of the hapostrophe, but I did know what you meant.

Oooh la la indeed.

::throws electro-pop shapes::

There really ought to be a Mr Thornton Oooh la la, but I guess nice Northen lads don't 'old with such furrin goin's on

.

It is a sad fact that Mr Thornton never features in the, ahem, saucier vids because they are made by teenagers who do not appreciate that he is sex on a stick he is overlooked in favour of some of the other personae.

You must remember that Mr Thornton is deeply interested in foreign culture, as exemplified by his love of me Plato.

Heh he, evil laugh, I manage to see all the YT vids nowadays! Mind you, I shall be pretty useless for the rest of the night, after that!

Could I lend you great aunt Agatha's ostrich feather fan? Or the smelling salts (somewhat depleted after last night)?

Thank you Maud. iMost kind. It's very warm here atm, and not just because of the vid.

We really must find a good smelling salts supplier who can do us a good deal on bulk orders...

Maybe there are no raunchy Mr Thornton vids because we all respect him so much as well as want to divest him of his cravat

Ah yes. That's it, Massive. Mr Thornton inspires only the most respectful and respectable thoughts and so we would never demean him or ourselves.

::Counts the cravats hidden in her capacious reticule::

Oh no! Laundry crisis. Mr Thornton has run out of cravats.

Shal I pop them in my posh new washer-dryer? They would be all nice and clean in a trice. But then he'd have to hop on a plane to the Island, of course.

That's kind of you, Massive, but I shall ask Dixon to do them in the dolly tub with a bar of Sunlight soap.

Maybe you should just send the cravats by DHL

Has Dixon got a posser? My gran always used to talk about her mum's posser.

Dixon may be a bit surly, but she's very good at dashing away with the smoothing iron.

Based on that evidence, I have to say she does an excellent job. Who ties them, though, I wonder? Mother?

Clearly, Mr Thornton feels a due sense of respect and obligation towards his mother, who kept the family afloat after his father's suicide, but I am sure he will tie his own cravats, although Mother does like her boy to look tidy.

I of course stand ready to loosen his cravat at any moment

Isn't that a sweet pic? What a lovely boy she has!

Connection playing up again, so I shall say bonne nuit a tous et a toutes.

Et bonne nuit a toi, aussi

Oh lawks, Maud, now how am I going to put that out of my mind?